


Hands

by thilesluna



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, First Meeting, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9520472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: Jeremy and Gavin meet at a club. That's pretty much it.





	

The club is dim and the music is loud and Jeremy is just tipsy enough to dance. He can feel the pulse of the bass in his bones, radiating out from where his feet touch the floor and vibrating out to his fingertips. It feels _good_.

Matt doesn't dance. He was very clear about it when they made these plans to go out and that's fine with Jeremy because with the alcohol singing in his veins he doesn't need anyone to dance with him anyway.

But he also doesn’t mind when he feels a body press up against his back and thin fingers slide across his hips. He grins, leans back into the person, grinding and swiveling his ass. There's a sharp inhale in his ear and the fingers go tight, rucking up his shirt just enough to touch his skin.

Jeremy thought the air in the club was hot before but it's nothing compared to the heat he feels rippling through his body. The hand slips farther, the pressure on his lower belly, pulling him back, makes him groan, makes his blood race and he reaches over his head to get a hand in the guy's hair. There are lips on his neck, and he tilts his head to the side asking for more, making a satisfied noise when he feels teeth scraping.

"Christ," the guy says, pulling his mouth away just enough. "Christ, you're bloody incredible, you know that?"

British. Huh.

"You're—You're one to talk," Jeremy manages. His head is spinning from more than the alcohol. He's getting drunk off the feeling of this guy pressing in tight behind him and the hard lines of his body where they fit against his own. He doesn't even know what this guy _looks_ like but he can feel the way he presses his crotch against his ass and he is _interested_. The guy spins him then and damn, Jeremy hit the random stranger _jackpot_ tonight.

The guy has a pretty big nose, that’s the first thing Jeremy notices, but at the same time it fits his thin, angular face that’s got a well kept beard. He’s tall, or at least taller than Jeremy—which Matt would gleefully point out is not a hard feat—and well dressed. _Definitely_ Jeremy’s type.

He wraps a hand behind the guy, gripping his ass and pulling him in to continue dancing. There’s a firm hand on his chin, tilting it up and _jesus_ , it’s not often that Jeremy makes out with strangers at the club but he’ll make an exception for this man any time. Everything is so hot; the hand on his skin, the lips sliding against his own, the heavy grind of their bodies in rhythm with the music. It’s _heaven_.

It feels like they’ve been kissing for hours when they finally break apart but the song hasn’t even ended yet. “What’s your name?” he gasps out because this guy is getting bragged about tomorrow at work.

“Gavin,” is the reply. “And you are?”

God, it’s so ridiculous and formal sounding, this strange dance-floor introduction and Jeremy can’t help but laugh. “Jeremy,” he says, “At your service.”

“Come on now, don’t say things like that,” Gavin chides even as his fingers slide beneath Jeremy’s shirt and make him shudder. “Things like that will give a man ideas, yeah?”

“What sort of ideas would that be, Gavin?” and his own hands are gliding down the man’s back, traveling to where he slips one into the pocket of Gavin’s stupidly tight jeans, pulling them flush.

“Good lord, you’re tryin’ to kill me aren’t you?” Gavin whines, the tone offset by the way he ducks his head to bite at Jeremy’s neck again.

“Not yet,” Jeremy laughs. “I figure we can have way more fun before then.” Gavin pulls away and even in the dim lights of the club, Jeremy can see the look in his eyes that says, _hell yes I’m on board_.

It’s solidified by the way Gavin grabs his hand and practically drags him to a hallway at the back of the club. Jeremy pulls him to a stop, pushes him up against the wall and kisses him again, unable to resist the temptation. Gavin groans low in his throat, pressing back just a much, the two of them fighting each other even though it’s abundantly clear that they’re both fucking winning.

“Come on, J,” Gavin says, breaking the kiss. “Come on, there’s—jesus—“ Jeremy brushes his hand over the bulge in Gavin’s jeans, the man’s pants leaving almost nothing to the imagination. “There’s a room—“

“You do this often?” Jeremy teases, pressing a little harder just to make Gavin whine.

The grin Gavin shoots him is a little salacious and it distracts Jeremy enough that he ends up with his back to the wall and the man towering over him. “Nah,” he says, leaning in and voice dropping to a whisper. “I know the owner. I’m sure he’ll forgive me for banging a hot guy in his office.”

Jeremy groans and gets a hand in Gavin’s hair. “Lemme just—“ the teeth on the shell of his ear are _distracting_ “—god, lemme just text my friend so he doesn’t freak out when I’m missing.”

“Do what ya gotta do,” Gavin answers. He busies himself with touching Jeremy anywhere he can, hands roaming in a way that’s even more distracting than the teeth.

 _> > matt im leavin the clun_  
>> club  
**< Yeah with the tall, lanky guy who was sucking your face off right?**  
_> > fuck you_  
>> dont wait uo  
>> up  
**< Oh Jeremy, you HARLOT.**  
_> > I fuckign hate u_

He stuffs his phone away just in time for Gavin to pull him farther down the hall and into a room filled with things worth more than his entire apartment. It’s the kind of stuff that he wants to have once he and Matt either get established or join a big name crew. They barely break kissing now, it’s clumsy and silly, both of them grinning into the shared kisses. Gavin nearly takes out the glass coffee table trying to get his shirt off and Jeremy doesn’t fare much better with his pants, catching an ugly-ass stone bust of a guy with a mustache before it slams into the ground.

Before he knows it, he’s on Gavin’s lap on the plush, leather couch and they’re both in just their underwear, pressing against each other like it’s the only think keeping them alive. Gavin breaks off a kiss to moan, forehead resting against Jeremy’s chest as he swivels his hips and grinds down. “Jeremy, christ, I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep that up.”

“Maybe we just knock that first one out then,” Jeremy laughs. “I’m sure I can last until you’re ready to go again.”

“Is that a challenge?” Gavin asks and there’s a glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down Jeremy’s spine.

“It’s a _bet_ ,” he says, leaning in to kiss Gavin again.

“You’re so on,” Gavin whispers. He extends his hand out to shake and Jeremy giggles at the sight of him; mussed hair, kiss-bitten lips, in nothing but his briefs and holding out his hand like he’s meeting his prom date’s father for the first time. “Loser buys the next round of bevs.”

Jeremy takes his hand, shakes it like a business transaction and marvels at the way Gavin’s face scrunches up with his smile. “Deal,” he says and then uses his grip to pull Gavin into another kiss. He doesn’t waste any time, his hands travel down Gavin’s chest, fingers brushing through the thick mat of chest hair, stopping to tease at his nipples until Gavin grunts.

“Not really my thing, love,” he says. Jeremy shrugs and moves on, pinching at Gavin’s sides until he squirms and groans. “You’re a bloody tease, aren’t you?”

“I like to watch you get worked up,” Jeremy laughs. He reaches between them and rubs carefully at the front of Gavin’s underwear. The man gasps, arches into the touch almost unseating Jeremy from his lap. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Sh-shut up,” Gavin mutters. “Shut up and keep flippin’ touching me.” His hands are gripping Jeremy’s hips, squeezing with each press of his hand.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe he’s just drunk on the way Gavin moves beneath him, but Jeremy’s pretty sure he could stop touching him even if he wanted to.

\--------

When Jeremy wakes the next day, it’s with a mouth that feels like he’s been sucking on cotton balls and a headache that threatens to knock his ass right back into unconsciousness. He groans, rolling over to smash his face into the pillow and block out the dim light coming from the half-covered window. He feels vaguely like he’s been hit by a fucking monster truck.

Jeremy remembers mostly everything from last night up to the point where Gavin had to buy a new round of drinks after Jeremy had “sufficiently ruined him for all other men”. The sex was fantastic, he thinks to himself, grinning into the pillowcase that smells like the shitty bargain brand of detergent Matt buys. He remembers telling Gavin about the plans that he and Matt have, remembers the sly grin pulling at Gavin’s lips that had made him start a brand new round of making out. After that everything gets a little fuzzy, but he’s pretty sure he got a blowjob in an alley which isn’t normally something he’d do.

Maybe the last shot of tequila was a mistake.

He finally drags himself out of bed when he looks at his phone and sees that it’s nearing 2pm. His shift at the bar starts in a few hours and he needs to shower and ingest something greasy, STAT. The light in the bathroom is, thankfully, on its way out and dim as fuck so he feels less like dying, but it’s definitely bright enough to see the writing scrawled across his chest.

It takes _way_ to long of him staring at the words in the mirror before he gives up trying to read them backwards and gets his phone and points the forward facing camera directly at his chest and snaps a picture. The picture rights itself and he squints down at the words.

_Lovely Jeremy! I had a brilliant time tonight. Call me sometime! 555-4381_

He gapes at the words for another moment before he flushes crimson when he notices the deep purple bruises on his collarbones and remembers the way Gavin’s mouth felt on his skin.

He hastily types the number into his phone before jumping in the shower to scrub the writing off his skin.

He’s _definitely_ calling.


End file.
